Fall into the Flames
by Caffeinated Canvas
Summary: Adriana has a little bit of an issue with fire - bursting into it, that is. When she inherits her grandmother's house, she stumbles upon a curious dark-haired man in her garden, and an even curiouser legacy left behind. Pre-Avengers/Post-Thor. Loki/OC
1. In Which Adriana Finds a New Home

I think I'll tell you a bit about my writing and myself– I WANT TO RECIVE CONSTRUCITVE CRTISIM. Yes, I would LOVE to have your praise and comments about how much you like the story, but I also want to grow as a writer. No, writing is not necessarily a career choice for me, but it is something that I strive to hone. In all actuality, I want to be a special effects make-up artist. My father is soon buying me materials for it, so if I ever do work on it, I'll put a link up so you can critique that too. If you are a grammar nazi, please, please, _please_ tell me where I err. I only want to improve! On with the show!

Songs of the Chapter (This may have nothing to do with it, it's just fun :3):

Help I'm Alive by Metric

S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W by My Chemical Romance

Right Before My Eyes by Cage the Elephant (LISTEN TO IT! RIGHT MEOW!)

Whatsername by Green Day

2024 by Cage the Elephant

* * *

CHAPTER ONE: IN WHICH ADRIANA FINDS A NEW HOME.

It was old.

It was horridly brown.

It was gaudy.

It was falling apart.

It was secluded.

It was infested.

It was my childhood.

It was _perfect._

I gazed upon the three-story farm house in a partial awe; I knew the place as if I had just skipped out to get a carton of milk or something, like I had never left. The mundane feeling of coming here every summer lingered in the back of my mind as my eyes bore into the brown wooden paneling, but there was a new feeling to associate with – the reviving thought of a place to recuperate and start anew.

"Uh... $18.95." I spun on my heels, being wrenched from the euphoric stupor.

"What?" I somnolently replied. The middled-aged taxi driver's hand stretched out to receive payment. "Oh, um..." I dug around my pockets for the proper bills. "I hope you have change," I pulled out a crumpled $20 and offered it to the slightly withered, thinned hand. His palm clamped onto it with great haste. "So?"

"No change." He didn't bother to look at me as he placed his hand back on the wheel and sped back down the dirt road, beige dust billowing behind each wheel. I couldn't blame the man – I had forced the poor guy to drive forty miles into the middle of the Washington boondocks. Placing the lost change at the back of my mind, I turned once more to face the disaster of a fixer-upper that I found myself smiling before.

Every summer of my childhood I came here, right until the summer I turned 18. My precautionary parents, Simona and Carlo, were wary of sending me off into the world unsupervised for even a few minutes without someone nearby that was aware of me. That narrowed it down to my mother, my father, and my decrepit grandmother Maria.

I was born 1989, June 21st, 2:28 am in Biddeford, Maine – That's important. That's the summer solstice of that year. Because of the wretched sun, I was forced to hide in the shadows. No friends, no school (private or not), no concerts, no public parks, no malls, no restaurants, no movies, nothing. I was home schooled, so Simona and Carlo got sick of dealing with me all year and entrusted me to Maria during the summers. Don't get me wrong, I love the gray-haired woman to death, but she had her bouts of senility. She rambled on and on about her backyard, and how important it was to keep the garden weeded. If there was a lone blade of grass after I tended to the flower bed, she would make a scene. She claimed that she needed it proper for "company". If a man who is getting paid to drive me out here was reluctant, then I imagine that any friend the elder had would be only slightly less nettled to come out for a leisurely visit.

The house that I called home 90 days of the year was in less of a stable state. Maria was left us this February – winter, my least favorite season of course – leaving her humble abode abandoned in the woods. Some of the windows had been shattered by wind and hail, the front door hanging off the hinges, moss and ivy climbed up the westernmost wall. The medium brown paint chipped everywhere and stray shingles lay here and there, discarded off the roof. The once meticulously nurtured garden was overrun by weeds of every sort; dandelions, grasses, daises...

Pushing the uneven door inside the frame I crossed the threshold. Though the outside was the most heinous shade of brown, the inside was tranquil and bright. The walls were all painted with muted greens, blues, yellows, purples and whites - Her house kept the same color scheme as her coveted garden.

Suddenly there was a deafening crack under my right foot. "Yeep!" I shrieked as my leg plummeted four inches. The initial shock warmed my hands, glowing, setting the very tips ablaze.

"Calm..." I cooed to myself like one would a baby. The fire died out as I watched my makeshift thermometer's needle lower from 745.8 Fahrenheit down to a more 'natural' 124.3 degrees. When I was 15 I had rigged a temperature gauge to an old wristband. It had proved useful seeing as I was never sure weather or not I was out of the 'danger zone'. I had to be well under 200 degrees before settling down, or I risked spiking again. To ensure a minimum temperature, I kept myself pretty scantily clad. Today I had on white short-shorts and a red and white bandeau top that was fashioned to look like a big bow.

The room looked like it had been inhabited by odd-shaped ghosts, for all of the furniture had been covered with sheets. The space held the scent of pine and rosemary - Grandma Marie always grew it in her windowsills. I drew in the warmth of the memories of freshly made focaccia bread, gnocchi, hazelnut gelato, and espresso. The elderly Italian woman's hands produced some of my best childhood memories, most of them being at her kitchen table.

I strode over the fireplace, running a single fingertip over the mantle. It was covered in dust and pollen, drifted in from the window left open under the overhang. My hand lingered for a moment, letting my mind linger on reminiscing about the ever-present fire she burned for me, which was now reduced to nothing more than a pile of ash and debris.

Leaving the memories for another day, I turned.

Time to get to work.

I moved around the room, eyeing the sheet-veiled masses before me. I carefully stripped each piece of furniture in the expansive room, an assortment of beige couches and chairs, baby blue french tables, a towering german grandfather lock, expansive bookcases. Grandmother Maria had a passion for mythology, and the zeal had skipped me and passed onto my younger sister Tazia. I made a mental note to send the plethora of literature to her.

In Maria's will, she left my mother (her daughter) things like jewelry, dolls, pots and pans, cookbooks... To my sister she had left all her books, and to me, literally _everything else._ The house and everything inside now belonged to me. All that I had to do was relinquish the books to Tazia. I didn't care much - I had read each of these a thousand times over in my youth – but there was no reason not to skim them over once more before sending them to the little wannabe-necromancer.

When I was satisfied with myself, I trekked up the two flights of stairs to my old bedroom, just past guest bedroom Grandma Marie always kept around for her 'company'. Why company would need a full medical kit in the closet I never discerned.

My bedroom had not changed a bit. Yes, it was dusty and all the furniture had been covered by white canvases and spare bedsheets, but everything was exactly in place. Even my old stuffed bunny laid exactly where I had left her on my bed. That being the one thing not sheltered by cloth, it was a inviting as ever, especially after two plane rides and a long taxi ride straight after. The distended sections of the comforter deflated with a light, airy sound. I closed my eyes to rest, but soon let the darkness of dreams consume me...

* * *

A blindingly bright light cascaded into the windows, rudely stirring me from my sleep. _Just a car passing,_ I told myself.

_...Car?_

I shot up like a rocket and my gauge rose accordingly to at least 220. The lazy afternoon had turned into a moonless night while I slept. If a car was here, it was either some lost passerby or an ax murderer. For their sake, I would prefer the latter.

I sat there for a few moments, waiting for anything from a vociferous bang or even the slightest of creeks from the shabby steps. Being dissatisfied after a few minutes, I gathered the courage to leave the sanctity of the sheets swaddling me. As I left the room and descended the stairs, I kept my hands ready to ignite at the slightest perception of movement.

I made my way to the ground floor without being stabbed, which was a good sign, if anything. Moving with my back against the walls, I crept towards the front door. I paused with my hand on the doorknob, fully turned. It took a good thirty seconds of deep breathing until I mustered the gall to push.

Nothing.

No car, no ax murderer, not even a bomb was left on the doorsill. I sighed at my own doltishness, closing the door and walking away. _It must have been part of my dream. _I nodded in agreement with myself. I was about to place my foot on the first step of the stairs until comprehension dawned upon me – _My windows face the backyard._

I bolted to the back door and yanked it open to reveal the eden of tall grass and irises. No longer concerning myself with being given away, I let my left hand go fully ablaze. My eyes combed the perimeters of the monstrous garden to no avail. Which was why I blew up my other hand too. _Never assume the best,_ Grandmother Marie warned. Her raspy, aged voice rang in my mind with great authority. I moved a few meters forward, constantly turning every which way, scanning my perimeters. A few more steps backwards...

Nothing. Again.

I lowered my arms in exasperation, waving out the fire. _You let your imagination run away with you too much Adriana,_ my father's voice scolded. _Stop that._

With a tired sigh I looked up at the old house. Peering at the roof slightly, the chimney looked like it was falling apart. _Really? One more thing to fix?_ I took one step back to get a wider view and-

"Mmp!" I toppled over, my back hitting a rock and my calves resting on something... _soft?_ I begrudgingly lifted my head to peer the cushy enigma.

My jaw fell and my breath caught.

A man.

A man was underneath my legs.

I scrambled to get back up on my feet, either to get away from him or to get a better look I did not know. Was he dead? His strange leather attire combined with be shade of darkness prevented me from getting a clear view of his chest.

"Nnnn..." A slight groan escaped the dark personage. _Alive_, I sighed with relief. So there wasn't a serial killer coming back to bury his carcass. Good. I tentatively watched him for a moment, waiting for anything to happen next. He was lean with graceful features and a scalp full of night-black hair. Good as well – a blazing fist to the face would take out my possible assailant and ignite his hair at the same time, which could buy me time to run...

But there was nothing. His eyes twitched now and then, but otherwise he remained faultlessly asleep. Internally I debated my options. I could let him sleep here until morning, but then he would undoubtedly come to the house in the morning. I could call the authorities, but if he might wake up and jump me before they could get here.

_He could be completely harmless_. The very thought intrigued me. I crouched down and pushed a few stray clumps of hair away from his face, revealing a rather winsome man, more beautiful than I had realized standing away from him.

_Harmless, Adriana. Just a harmless man._

I hated myself sometimes. I stood and did a few precautionary stretches and stood over his head. Both arms lay at his sides, as if he simply chose that spot to nap in. I put either hand under his armpits and pulled. _Fuck, he's heavy._ Setting him back down gently, I pondered what could be done to ease the load.

I stripped him of his cloak (which was quite the endeavor), as well as his boots and arm... cuff... things. Placing my hands under him again, I found it only slightly easier.

"God damn it dude, what do you eat?" I groaned. We moved about 15 feet until I finally dragged him to the door. The two of us got in with little trouble, the only difficult part was getting him upstairs. Every step received two thumps of his feet, a resounding groan from myself, and an eerie creak. I had climbed all 28 steps up to the third floor guest room. Setting him down on the low bed, I took to the closet to look for the big black medical bag. After some rigorous digging, the bag initialed "M. I. D." emerged, its contents spilling out, gasping for air.

I zipped it back up, plopping myself down onto the ramshackle two foot stool next to the bed and looked over my new guest.

First came the head. With one hand I tilted his face up, down, and to the left. There were no visible contusions, but damn it was he cold. Perhaps it was my being not used to other people, but I did hold my mother's had when I was young, and she was not nearly that cold.

The touch of his icy skin was followed by a pin-drop '_plink_'. My... The gauge's needle dropped _all the way to the left._ That meant I (or at least my wrist) was at an aberrant _100 degrees._

I withdrew my fingers from his chin and cupped them with my other hand, keeping my eyes locked on the gauge. Slowly the needle trickled up to 105, 115, 120... Then back to normal. Looking back at the anomalous figure sleeping in the bed my brow frowned with... Well I don't know what. Confusion I suppose. Fear loomed within the cocktail of emotions. And most definitely, there was the bewilderment of being _cold_.

The fear and confusion were far more prominent than my inquisitiveness.

_He'll be fine._ I reassured myself. I took down two more blankets from the closet and carefully laid it on top of the initial three.

With one last worried and indecisive look, I moved down the hall to my own room and let slumber take hold once more.

* * *

The dim sunlight shone through the trees and the window's sheer white curtains, making the light play on my eyelids. I smiled – I was always a morning person. The ever-present ball of flame in the sky came up to greet me and instantaneously gave me a revitalizing sense of warmth. As the morning gleam stirred me, the reality of the night before came to mind.

I shot up from the bed and ran to the guest room as quickly and quietly as possible, limiting my breathing. I trotted on the balls of my feet and my toes barely made contact with the cold wooden floor. Tension showed through my hans when I finally reached his door - The metal door knob started to glow under my hand.

Would my... _Visitor_ be awake, I wondered? It might not hurt to bring in a peace offering of some sort first, like pancakes or something. Hell, for all I know, he may have just crashed in my field on purpose.

Whilst lost in my deranged ponderings, the knob had slipped my mind completely. As the intensity of my daydreams rose, so did the heat of my hands.

_SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSST..._

I yanked my arm away from the glowing metal clump. This house was older than me, and here I go, leaving everything in my wake a pile of rubble and molten iron. I fanned the bit of metal with my hands to no avail. I placed my hand back on the handle gingerly. Either I start learning how to control myself, or...

I shook the demons away – I tended not to think about that. Control was of the essence. That was all that needed to be said.

My eyes locked on the motionless door in front of me. Again, I found myself wondering if the man was awake. I leaned my body close to the door, pressing one ear squarely to the wooden blockade. My eyes shut to heighten my sense of hearing.

.

.

.

_huffft..._

_._

_._

_._

_haahss..._

I smiled at my own ignorance. The man was only asleep. Out of the corner of my eye I could clearly see the needle on the gauge drop about 150 degrees. I ran a hand through my hair and turned the handle.

I budged the door open as quietly as I could, but a few squeaks still escaped the hinges. Another thing to do -oil all the hinges...

The man laid in practically the same position that I had left him a few hours before. Creeping a few feet close, I found my breath caught. He was so... _perfect. _Even with the few scratches on his face that I had missed in the dim the night before, he was absolutely astounding. I swallowed, focusing at the task at hand. Previously, it seems, I had overlooked a rather large cut on the right side of his forehead, as well as a few on his left hand. They all looked quite dirty.

I sat myself back down on the stool, my hands diving into the black bag. The cotton balls were conveniently atop all the other contents, but the peroxide required a bit of digging. When I finally got my hands on the brown and white bottle, I dampened a single cotton ball and hesitated for a moment before pressing the wettish clump to his face. The hydrogen peroxide fizzed at the touch of the grime, oxidizing the slash. The stranger's nose twitched in what I could only describe as mild annoyance.

I swallowed the remnants of my fear and continued along the rest of the gash. Once I was finished that one, I moved around to his left side, lifting his hand – Which swiftly clamped onto my wrist with great force.

* * *

Never wake a sleeping frost giant Adriana! With that said, this, my friends, is where I take my leave. It's late and I've made myself too many pumpkin spice lattes for my own good.

Concerning the length of the chapters – The chapter length corresponds to how much inspiration I have., and how many pages it says I have written on open office. I'll strive for a _minimum_ of 5 pages. I'll try to make them as long as I can, but right now they will be a bit shorter than I would like. When there's more dialogue, there will be so much more writing :3

Concerning reviews – I'll try to respond to as many as I can (assuming I get any) at the end of each chapter. I _have_ enabled anonymous reviewing, so feel free to send me your feedback!

By the way, I'm so sorry if I come out a bit too stiff... I actually don't talk with such eloquence around normal people... nor do I say the word eloquence -_-'. Please feel free to be as crazy as you can with the reviews!


	2. In which Our Stranger Awakens

Hello my Loverlies! So glad to see you again. I had some trouble cranking out this one – my writing got kinda stale there -_-. This series is really just a prologue to the Avengers fic I'm going to do. THAT will be twice as epic. This is just some weird little fluff for now.

If anyone has issues with the chemistry I'm using, I give Adriana the same properties as a candle, which burns at roughly 750 degrees Fahrenheit. A human bursts into flames at 480 degrees. Adriana is not human. Some people are assholes, so for them I try to make this as accurate as possible. And also for myself. I'm definitely one of those assholes. :)

Chapter Songs!:

Anna Sun by Walk the Moon

On Melancholy Hill by Gorillaz

Stadium Love by Metric

May I state now that I think the song Black Sheep by Metric fits Loki petty damn well? That might just be my current Metric phase, but hey, still fits.

I own nothing but Adrianne.

* * *

CHAPTER TWO: IN WHICH OUR STRANGER AWAKENS

It took me a fair three seconds to even react.

"Um..." I attempted to jerk him off of my wrist. Of course, I was unsuccessful and his grip only tightened. His eyes snapped open and locked onto me with a wicked glare. I waited, full of cowardice, for him to say something. Instead, his eyes searched the room.

My ragged breathing was the only thing filling the silence. I tried to get a good look at the gauge to see where I was at – by my judgement, any _normal_ person would have contracted _fourth degree burns_ by now. He should have even _ignited _a good hundred degrees ago,My fingertips glowed a fiery orange, becoming brighter and brighter with each passing moment. A part of me wanted to scream at him to let go, but my common sense told me otherwise – If this man let go now, I could risk blowing up the house as well as him in a wild inferno.

His eyes finally made their way back to my face. He yanked my arms towards him, repositioning his large hands on either of my shoulders. The distance between our faces was lessened to mere inches, which gave me the opportunity to take in all of his eccentric features. He had very light eyes and rather pale skin that contrasted his inky-black mane. I watched his mouth turn into a menacing snarl.

"Where. Am. I?" I was muted by the sound of his staccato voice. It had an elegant northern accent to it, the kind that could win over any woman – or any person at all for that matter.

With each passing moment that I did not respond his glare intensified. I squeezed my eyelids closed and attempted to calm my heart rate. He shook me by the shoulders, not so gently.

"_Well?_" He shouted through gritted teeth.

"Washington!" I spurt out. "B-Barker Mountain, Washington." His brow furrowed in a dangerous mixture of both confusion and distrust. There was another moment of silence and I took advantage to yet again try and get my heartbeat lowered to a normal pace. I felt brave enough to cast my gaze to the gauge. 356.8 fucking degrees.

After another moment he closed his eyes and pursed his lips thoughtfully, letting his icy grip loosen on my arms. They were sure to leave bruises. I feebly sunk to the ground, placing a hand over the heart that was battering my chest. My gauge lowered slowly back to 175.8. _Close enough._

I laid there motionless for a moment. That is, until the anger started to cloud my mind. My fists balled with heat and I felt a growl surge in the base of my throat. I stood, towering over the pale man. He had let his head rest back on the pillow and rubbed his unscathed temple with two narrow fingers.

It was probably for the best that he did not see my face contorted with rage, seeing as most people responded to rage with more rage. I let my mind wander across all the possibilities as to why this unpleasant man was found in my garden – other than the already ruled out ax murderer or corpse.

_He could be sick!_ _He could have been some sick amnesiac wandering around in the woods. _Oh, silly me. I admit it was a long shot, but it was all I had.

My mind fluttered back to all the TV shows I saw where someone had lost their memory. Questions – they _always_ asked questions. I allowed myself to breathe deeply and roll my shoulders back before continuing with my 'patient'.

"How do you _not_ know where you are?" His brow twitched.

Silence.

"Where you're from?" His nose and upper lip jerked.

Silence again.

"Um... Alright, how about your name? Do you know your-"

"-_Of course I know my name!" _His harsh tone made me cringe. I clamped my eyes shut once more, this time with utter frustration. No, he was _not_ an amnesiac and no, he was_ not_ completely harmless.

Definitely though, he was in pain. It showed when he sat up and twisted towards me to do what I assumed was yell at me some more.

"Tsch!" He grimaced and lowered back down, giving in to the call of the mattress. Seeing that he was injured gave me a bit of relief. As hostile as his voice made him out to be, right now he was rendered completely benign.

I spotted the cotton balls and peroxide that he had knocked out of my hands inadvertently when he snatched my wrist. I took a new cotton ball out of the bag and dabbed on the peroxide. Hesitating slightly, I pressed the damp cotton to one of the gashes on his hand. This time he didn't pounce on me; instead he craned his neck to get a better look.

"...What _are_ you doing?" He inquired with a voice full of acidity.

"The same thing that I was doing before – I'm cleaning these cuts. They're filthy." He jerked his hand away a bit.

"It is unnecessary," he protested. "I heal quite well, certainty well enough without the help of - "

" - Shut up." I cut him off by firmly pressing the peroxide in the cut. He hissed a bit, receiving no remorse from me.

He stayed somewhat cooperative as I finished cleaning the lacerations and bandaged them up.

"Those bandages should only stay on for a few days. Then you should let them breathe and scab over." My ill-mannered patient remained quiet. Not even a slight twitch this time. "I'll call a cab to take you somewhere." Nothing. "Uh, hey do you... Hello?" There was no response. I sighed, putting my hands on his shoulders and shaking him lightly. His eyes snapped open sleepily.

"Hmm?" His lids fluttered with exhaustion.

"I'm going to call a taxi for you. Do you have somewhere you can go?" His eyes trailed away from me and turned his head to look out the windows. There was a long gap of silence, only accompanied by the soft rustling of leaves on the monstrous oak tree outside.

"No..." he replied softly. "No, I don't think I do." With a heavy sigh, I lugged the large medical bag back into the closet.

"Well you can't stay here." With that, I made my way out the door. Just before turning the now-warped doorknob closed, I creaked the door oped a bit and called back.

"Shout if you need anything." His back still faced me. Either he was asleep again or he was simply paying me no heed.

Exhaling sharply I descended back down the staircase. In my haste of getting to bed yesterday, I had never unpacked. I didn't necessarily have that much to put away – Just the most important things like clothes, toiletries, shoes...

Before delving into the abyss of boxes, I took a look around me. The living room, unsheathed, seemed more empty now than ever. With the sheets covering the furniture, Maria's death had sunk in. Now with them removed, the room held the same sentiment that I had felt when I first came to the house yesterday. It was like she was still here (and had been skipping out on dusting).

I missed her. I missed her _so much._

Grandma Maria had died of old age, so it wasn't like she had left us tragically - I had come to terms with her passing a good month before she actually died. Maria had a way with people that I could never hope to grasp. She crawled her way into your heart, infesting it with charity and corroding away any animosity.

The only way that I could now honor her was to take good care of this house. Honestly, this house was the only thing she held on other than me after Grandfather Baldassare died. She refused to leave this place for a nursing home in her old age. This was another instance where she insisted on doing something for her 'company'.

My only job now was to upkeep the creaking dwelling.

Which meant dusting.

And mopping.

And vacuuming.

_Ugh._

I begrudgingly picked up the smallest box of the lot and placed it on the glass coffee table. There were a few very important items inside – Lemon pledge and rags.

I stood at the back of the room, wondering where to start. The picture-laden mantle was a good place to start. Venturing over, I sprayed a bit of the dust cleaner on the gray rag and swiped away, lifting each frame as I went. They were filled with images of Tazia, Carlos, Simona and I – Mainly of me, of course, at different ages. They were all happy memories, ones that I did care to savor as I didn't get many of them.

Don't get me wrong, I did not have an unpleasant life, but it was terribly _boring_ not having anyone to play with but Tazia. I love her to death, but she was – and still_ is_ – quite the motormouth. And eccentric. I do believe she has green hair now. Or maybe it was purple... One never knows with her.

Once I was pleased with the state of the mantle, I moved onto the coffee table and the bookcases that lined the back walls.

The cases were overflowing with knowledge. There were dictionaries six inches wide, dictionaries in foreign languages, thesauruses, and a plethora of different editions of encyclopedias. The top rows on the first case was entirely compromised of mythology books of every odd sort – Finnish, Somali, Lozi, Egyptian, Hindu, Norse, Islamic, Inuit, Arabian, Babylonian, Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Hawaiian, Greek, Roman, Germanic, Turkish, Celtic, Iroquois, Aztec... And that was only what I can remember off the top of my head.

Maria also had each classic novel as well. The words of Fitzgerald, Salinger, Faulkner, Chaucer, Steinbeck, and many others had called to me when I was younger. Even though I wasn't really in any sort of school, I craved knowledge like a honeybee does long for pollen. That may be one of the only features that Taz and I share.

The majority of the books were dusty all on their own, accumulated over the many years before Maria had adopted them. She had a kindling to old books. Maybe the old koot was trying to find something as ancient as herself.

I did notice that some of the history books had been placed near the Norse myths. Strange... Grandmother had the worst case of OCD in an old woman that I had ever seen. Perhaps her organization skills went away along with her sanity. I reshuffled a few volumes around so that I could make room for the two books in their proper places.

I polished off the final shelf and continued on with the grandfather clock and the two blue tables.

The living room was adequate for now – I no longer felt like sneezing my brains out. The kitchen was next, just through the swinging white door.

* * *

I had dusted each of the rooms now, save for one – _his_ room. I was dreading it, absolutely dreading seeing him again. I reassure myself that if I was quiet enough he wouldn't wake up. That is, if he was in fact still asleep. I pressed my ear once more to the wooden door. This time I took the precaution of keeping my hand _off_ the tortured metal doorknob.

.

.

.

_huffft..._

_._

_._

_._

_haahss..._

His breathing was the same as before, which had reassured me that I was safe for now. I very slowly twisted the handle until I heard the most faint of clicks. I took in one large, silent breath before pushing the door open.

This man could sleep through anything apparently. The guest room had the most windows of any room of it's size in the entire house. The sunlight bounced off the pale pink walls into the middle of the room, pretty much exactly where he laid. Right then it was about an hour after noon, and the sun bore into the glass.

I absolutely loved it.

Being in the intensely lit room gave me the most energy that I had all day. Natural, warm sunlight pleased me the most. There was something cold and abnormal about lightbulbs – those newfangled florescent lights especially. Their gleam felt almost demonic on my skin.

I paid almost no heed to the slumbering pale man while I wiped each surface clean of dust. Unlike the other rooms, this one had nothing personal of Maria in it. There were no pictures of Taz or I, no books... Just the bare necessities for anyone that might have been visiting.

My footsteps lightened as I neared the man. The only place left to clean was the bedside table, which was topped by a very heavy cast iron antique lamp. The thing was so heavy that I didn't even bother to lift it as I wiped around it.

"Mmmp!" My wrist sharply bumped into the neck of the lamp, causing it to wobble. My palms heated up in a mix of pain and anxiety. I clasped by wrist and hissed a bit as I watched my anomalous guest's face.

…

Not a single twitch or furrow.

I allowed myself to exhale and watch my gauge lower itself back down at about 187 degrees.

I wiped down the last part of the table and went on my way.

* * *

There were no words for my level of exhaustion. I had meticulously swiped each and every flat surface of the three-story house with nothing but a few cans of pledge and a bunch of old rags. Each room was combed through for tables, shelves, and cabinets. At one point, I don't even think I really registered what I was wiping down – my arm just automatically found dust and eradicated it.

My arms and legs craved rest, and I gave into their needs, plopping myself onto the beige chaise lounge that sat invitingly near the empty hearth. _I must get a fire going one of these days..._

I felt my eyelids wilt in fatigue, and this time I did fight myself. There was a stranger in my house that did not give me the best impression. He faulted my fire, and that was not at all comforting.

I laid there with weary thoughts running through my head until I was interrupted by a faint thump, from above. If it had been any other day, I would have left the noise to be caused by the wind or bats...

I sat up and positioned myself towards the staircase behind me and held my breath, closing my eyes to listen.

_Thump._

…

_Thump._

…

…

_Thump, thump, thump thump..._

I released my breath to utter a single syllable – _Shit._

My eyes frantically searched the room. For what, I did not know. Possibly somewhere to hide, but what good would that do me? The man had been able to snatch up my arm with his eyes _closed_. Instead, I lifted my arm so that it laid in front of me on the back of the couch.

Carefully, I let myself go up to around 350 – this was cool enough so that I wasn't burning the couch, but hot enough so that I could burst if I let myself.

I kept my eyes glued to the staircase. The soft thumping of his footsteps rose to a clear footstep. The man finally appeared at the bottom of the steps.

His eyes scanned this room like they did before. Calculatingly, almost confused. Many moments passed.

"Umm..." I started, "Did you want anything?" His eyes landed on me, not at all phased. What seemed like an eternity passed while awaited a response. There was none.

"Uh, hey, did you want some water or something? I mean, I just moved here, so I don't exactly know if the water's turned on, but I think I have some bottled water in one of my bags..." He looked around again.

"What is this place?" He asked softly. He was not demanding like before, which calmed me down quite a bit. This time, he was genuinely confused.

"I already told you – Barker Mountain."

"Yes, but _where?_"

"Washington..." He sighed and shook his head.

"No, what _realm?_" I was the one to pause this time.

"...Excuse me?" He made his way to one of the chairs near me. The way he sat was very relaxed, but the way he hung his head and pinched the bridge of his nose told me otherwise.

"What _realm_ are we _in?_" He asked severely. So the attitude was back. Wonderful.

"Uh, I don't really know how to answer that... What exactly do you-"

"It is _not_ that difficult of a question!" His voice rose to just under a shout. I inhaled and licked my lips. It was clear that we were both losing our patience with each other.

The man wanted to know what _realm_ we were in? Fine. I'll humor him.

"Um... The, uh, human one, I guess..."

"You_ guess._" He scoffed.

"Well I don't really know what it is you're looking for out of me..." He held up a slender hand.

"No – No, that is enough."

There was a long pause. At this point, he did not seem hostile really, only a bit _unhinged_.

He remained seated in the same position, his hand on his face and his legs lazily laying about. I, on the other hand, was awkwardly restless. I shifted in my seat nervously, waiting for him to do just about anything. It became clear that he had no intention of moving anytime soon. I took a deep breath and made a bit of a bold move.

"You need to go somewhere." His hand fell to his side and he tilted his head up slightly to look at me.

"Yes..." He looked off towards the mantle. "But I do not yet know wh-"

"No no. That wasn't a question." I leaned toward him and tried my best to look stern. By the unchanging cool manner in his face, I assumed that I failed in that. "You can't stay _here_." He was quiet for a minute.

"You seemed more than capeable of lodging me before." He answered, almost mockingly.

"Well..."

"Well?"

"You were passes out and hurt before. I was only trying to-"

"Do I _look_ injured to you?" He held an unbandaged hand up for me to see, the same one that I was cleaning out before. There was not a single scratch on it. I sat back up.

"How did you-"

"Now, really, are you unable to keep me here for a while longer?"

"Yes, actually, I am _very_ unable to keep you here. You are _not_ my responsibility."

"Then why bring me here in the first place."

"Well first off, I didn't _bring_ you here, you were in _my _goddamn backyard. I just brought you inside." His eyes narrowed a bit.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you bring me inside? Why did you bring me here? Why did you not bring me to some sort of facility?" He stood up and made his way to me and positioned himself so that he was towering over me. "Why?"

"Uh... Um..."

"Exactly. You have no idea, and _neither do I_. Why fight something neither of us know?" He smirked at me a bit. I simply glared back.

"Pfft." I pushed him off me with a heated hand. He did not seem to notice at all...

I stood and made my way over to the front door.

"Look, I don't know what you want from me, and I don't exactly know _why_ the hell I brought you inside. You're clearly right – I should have lugged you over to the hospital as soon as I found you, _but I didn't_. And now you -" I opened the door and pointed outside. "Need to _leave_." I hissed.

A third voice joined in from outside.

"Um... Hello to you too Hot Stuff."

* * *

The best moment of the night – My mother and I are standing in the kitchen, watching the food network and sharing a carton of peppered cottage cheese. It's three A.M..

Me – This is what sad and lonely people do, isn't it?

She – Yeeup.

Me – Damn.

:) It's nice to know that a mother and daughter can be lonely together.

**Lokiandfriends** – GEEEAAHHHHHH! Thank you for actually reviewing bro. You were the one and only -_-

I know I already apologized for the delay, but again, I'm so sorry. I like to keep my readers updated though! You will always know what is going on as far as process goes – think of it was delay Twitter. Yeah, kinda like that... I actually found that drinking a bit loosened me up enough to write. Well, looks like I'm gonna be an alcoholic, hah! I am a bit tipsy as of now, in fact...


	3. In Which Adriana Has Another Visitor

I'M BACK BITCHES! Sooooooo I wanted to get this one out as soon as possible, so it's a bit shorter than the rest :( Still quality content though! ... Well, maybe.

Bad Days by The Flaming Lips

Rocket Man by Elton John (You give me the most hardcore rocker, and I guarantee that they too, like Elton John. Everyone likes Elton John. Everyone.)

Contact High by Architecture in Helsinki

Wonderlust King by Golgol Bordello (Gypsy Punk, motherfuckers!)

Last of the American Girls by Green Day

Good Vibrations by The Beach Boys

SCHWAANNNNG!

* * *

CHAPTER THREE: IN WHICH ADRIANA HAS ANOTHER VISITOR

I was right the first time – Her hair was the most intense shade of green that I had ever seen grace her thick mane. And believe me, there had been a few hues before.

It took me a moment to recover from seeing the black and purple clad girl on my doorstep.

"...Tazia?" She gave me a dazzling white smile.

"The one and only." Taz craned her neck to see the stubborn man behind me. "Who's the dude?" I positioned myself so that I was blocking her view.

"He... He's not important. Taz, why are you here?" Her smile disappeared and was replaced with a slight pout.

"Mom and dad sent me to help with the move." She stated. I sighed.

"They still don't trust me alone, do they?" She grinned at my dismay.

"_Nope_." Her mouth formed the word a bit over dramatically and embellished it with a resounding _pop _from her lips. She ducked under my arm and went inside.

Completely disregarding my rude guest, she looked around the room and whistled.

"This place got pretty shabby didn't it?" Taz ran a few fingertips over one of the bookcase shelves. "Ugh. I'd hate the poor fool who has to dust this place."

"Has to...?" She looked up at me and held up her fingers.

"It's filthy." She didn't get to see me slap my hand onto my forehead and groan. She immersed herself into digging through her studded black leather purse. Her eyes lit up and smiled as she dug out a massive colorfully decorated camera. She pointed the lens towards the stranger and I and grinned as she clicked the shutter. A bright flash filled the room for a nanosecond.

"Gah!" My guest covered his yes with his hands and stumbled back a bit. "What is that thing?" Taz only smiled more.

"It's a Canon EOS Rebel T3i. I painted it with acrylics the other day. Isn't it grand?" Taz tucked it back into the gigantic bag. I'm pretty sure I heard the man growl at her.

She marched over to the disturbed man, completely oblivious to his pique.

"Hi, I don't think I've introduced myself," She stuck out her right hand, and when he didn't take it she snatched his own right hand from his side and shook it with great enthusiasm. "I'm Tazia, Taz for short. I'm Adriana's sister. And you would be...?" He blinked at her without a trace of any identifiable emotion. The man just stared at the ever-present smilie on Taz's face.

I snorted quietly to myself. _And he told me he _knew_ his name._ A small smile of satisfaction spread across my face. It quickly disappeared when I remembered that I had a crazy man in my house. Oh boy.

I watched him blink a few more times. Tazia started to notice the pause too. She raised her eyebrows questioningly. "Hmm?"

"...Loki. My name is Loki." Taz's smile dropped from her face and she was struck silent – until she burst into a fit of violent giggles, that is. The jovial juvenile prodded one extended finger into the center of our guest's chest.

"You're funny! I like you." _Loki_ shot me a confused look. My hand slapped onto my forehead with a prominent smack.

There were two completely batty individuals in my household now. Fabulous.

"Oh!" Taz withdrew herself from the perplexed man and turned towards me. "I brought food! I know you don't eat much, but I'm _famished._" She bounded back to the doorsill and out to her car and started to bring in plastic bag upon plastic bag filled with groceries. Instead of helping, I simply stood there, quite amused my her franticly elated movements. Apparently Loki was engrossed as well. I had not seen my baby sister for about a year, and I found that I severely missed her antics.

When she was finished unloading the trunk and back seat of the small Ford car, there must have been over twenty full bags. Taz concluded her endeavor by lugging in a large blue cooler. She let out an accomplished puff of air and kneeled down to open up the container. Her hands, abundantly decorated with rings, pulled out a glass bottle, full of amber liquid. Tazia proficiently used the side of the Igloo to pop off the crown cork, letting the carbonation fizz. She lifted the neck of the bottle to her lips and took a long sip.

I was not enthralled with everything that Tazia was doing, not nearly as enthralled as our visitor was. The pale man had a strange way of watching every little move and item in the room as if he expected something to assault him. It was almost as if he was nonplussed by this very environment. He remained completely silent as his eyes shifted from place to place, item to item, me to Tazia. After a few minutes of awkward silence, Taz spoke up.

"Dude, are you okay?" She turned her head from her relaxed position leaning on the cooler. Taz glanced at him while taking another gulp of the chilled cola. He raised his eyebrows slightly.

"...What?" Her soprano voice pried him from his focus.

"Um, it's just that you've kinda been staring at me... Can I help you or something?" He shook his head a bit before gasping in what I assumed was pain. His mouth twitched and brought two fingers up to his face to pinch the bridge of his nose. Loki exhaled sharply from his nose and made his way back to the chair he was sitting in before. He sat with his head in one hand and breathed loudly.

Our new acquaintance sat like that for a for a few seconds before Taz and I exchanged glances; hers, one of worry, and mine pretty much expressionless. My unpleasant occupant was in pain? Fine. It didn't bother me in the least.

Seeing my indifference, Taz let out a bothered noise and shot up from the side of the cooler. She strode over to the apparently tormented man and placed a sympathetic hand of his shoulder from behind. He did not lift up his head like I presumed she was expecting, nor did he shrug her off. He seemed too occupied to care about her solicitude. To get him to regard her, Taz leaned herself over so her head was somewhat more noticeable. Her lengthy lime green pigtails cascaded down to the arm of the blandly colored chair. She ever-so-slightly shook his shoulder. In spite of her efforts, all he decided to do was grunt in a fitful manner.

"Hey – Do you need anything? Like, some water or something? Hey..." She shook his shoulder a bit more this time. He dropped his hands reluctantly from his face and slowly lifted his head up to give my sister an irate glare. She frowned. "Dude, you have some _intense_ bags under your eyes!" Tazia moved herself so that she was standing (or rather hovering) over him. He didn't seem to appreciate her compassion – all he did was keep the same, steady scowl. After a few moments of pursed lips, Taz patted him on the shoulder encouragingly.

"C'mon. Get up," She commanded. His eyes simply narrowed further (if that was even entirely possible). "By the look of those bags, you are in _dire_ need of some sleep." He sighed at her ignorance.

"Oh, he's slept enough." I jeered. Taz looked up form her convalescent and attempted to withhold a smirk – and failed.

"And you would know?" She shot me a knowing look. I joined Loki in glaring at her.

"Oh _please_." I scoffed. My goading sister let off, placing her focus back on the dark-haired man.

"Let's go – Guest room's upstairs." There was no movement. Taz pulled forward on his arms. "You're not gonna feel any better if you don't get any rest!" She kept on smiling at him. His nose twitched. "C'mon, I'll take you up-"

"Oh for the love of God, just _go with her!_" My sudden outburst caused even the obstinate guest to turn his head.

"...Will she not rest until she is satisfied?" He groaned with notes of exhaustion. Man, even with two days of sleeping... What could have caused a man to be so damn drained?

"I'm afraid not." I answered. Loki turned his head back to the beaming youth. He sighed one last time before begrudgingly getting up. Tazia flashed an even more radiant smile.

"There you go..." He rolled his eyes and started towards the stairs. "It's just up the-"

"I _know_ where it is." He hissed. Taz held up her hands defensively.

"Okay, jeez... What is this yell at Tazia day?"

"I believe it's a complete season." I offered. She turned her head and stuck her tongue out at me before disappearing up the staircase behind Loki.

With the two of them gone, I made my way over to the chaise lounge and plopped myself down and whined.

My sister is here.

And she seems to have a soft spot for Loki.

_Shit._

I sat there with my hands covering my face in utter frustration. I heard Taz's footsteps come back down the stairs. She strolled over to me contently and sat in the chair opposite me. Her fingertips drummed in a row as she grinned. The old beige chair made a slight creaking sound. I took my hands away to find my sister leaning right over me – an irritating tendency of hers.

I waited for her to say something, but she just smiled.

"What is it _now_?" I groaned. Taz smiled a bit more deviously at the sound of my exasperation. She gestured her thumb towards the stairs.

"Your boyfriend?" She half-accused. I rolled my eyes and shifted so I wasn't looking her in the face.

"_No_." I answered coldly, practically scolding my sister of even thinking of the possibility. She pouted for a split second before her whole face broke into a hopeful expression.

"So he's free then?" Indifferent to her optimism, I looked her hard in the face.

"Tazia, I let you goad him into staying here another night, but that doesn't mean I _like_ him being here. In fact, I rather despise this whole ordeal." Her smile turned into a slight pout of the lips. "Taz, he's leaving tomorrow." The girl's pout mixed with the wrinkling of her brow had taken the usually ecstatic face and made it into one of sadness.

"Why? Dria-"

"_No_. Taz I don't like the vibe this guy gives off. So far he's been nothing but cold to the both of us."

"So you two should get along _famously_ – You're both curt and cold!" She offered. I frowned at her overly-accepting nature.

"I'm sorry, but he has to go. I don't take kindly strangers Taz, you know that – and neither does my..." I trailed off hesitantly.

"Your what, Aidie? Your _condition_?" She lifted her hands to put quotations around the word. I swallowed with the beginnings of ire.

"Yes, Taz, my _condition_. I will not be responsible for anything that I can prevent. As I said, I don't like him, and that's _not _a good start for keeping him unscathed." Taz had an ever-so-rare look of seriousness to her.

"You underestimate yourself Aidie." She muttered the words like she expected to be struck for them. I turned fully on my back and stared at the decoratively carved ceiling panels. There was a long pause, and I sensed Tazia's slowly growing hope. The more it grew I feared her grief from me striking it down, but I feared letting her have her way.

"...No." The one syllable made her shoulders slump.

"_Adriana!_" She whined pleadingly. I sat up, still refusing to look her straight in the face.

"Tazia Gallo, do _not_ fight me on this. This may have been our grandmother's house, but it's_ my_ house now, and-"

"..." She muttered something under her breath, and I barely caught enough of a breath of it to take notice.

"What was that?" Her gaze locked onto me.

"_Grandma_ would have let him stay." That – _that_ of all things silenced me. My hands should have been piping hot for anyone else, but my little sister disarmed me completely. She never made me angry, only ever dejected, like now.

"...Taz - " I started.

"Grandma _loved_ the thought of having people in her house! You remember – she was always rambling on about how she wanted the whole place to be spic-and-span for company."

"But there was never any actual company Taz. You know that." She looked to the ceiling with pursed lips.

"That's not true - when she had that gardener dude Leo he stayed her when he worked too late-"

"Taz-"

"-And then there was that one time she let some exchange students stay here when their families canceled on them-"

"But she _invited_-"

"-_Aaaannnnd_ don't forget those hitchhikers she picked up once – they stayed for like a week before _she_ let them go! Adriana, please, in the spirit of our loving, kind, batshit crazy grandmother, _please_ let him stay." The young girl clasped her hands together and stared at me imploringly.

"..."

Her eyes got wider.

"..."

And wider still.

"...I suppose... I suppose I'll _consider_ it." Her grin made a dashing return as she wrapped her arms around me and squealed. I could only pat her lightly on the back seeing as how she had a death grip on my arms with her own. After a solid seven seconds of squeezing, Taz let me go and trotted back to one of her suitcases, hoisting it up and running up the stairs, presumably to her own room.

"You won't regret this!" She called over her shoulder. "These things come full circle!" She and her voice disappeared behind the twisting stairs.

I was still for a moment, taking in what had just happened with a loud groan.

My sister is staying here.

Along with that stranger.

Oh joy.

* * *

Ugh, I feel like this chapter was a bit messy... Well I did kinda rush the hell out of this...

REVIEWS!

**It's 437 AM and I'm dazzled ** - Yeah, I didn't want Loki to be that OOC, and I do not think he would be softened up by someone kicking him out and all. One of these days I'm gonna have her blow up so you can see Adriana's full potential ;) Her uncontrollable flameyness will be a big part of this.

**Alerix Slynn** – Eh, eheh... I'm interested too... -slinks away with shifty eyes-

**szynka2496** – I hope I got your name right... I'm glad you like it so far! The importance of the house will come into play more in some of the later chapters, so stay tuned!

**Lokiandfriends** – GAHHH YOU'RE BACK! :D

**Berianireth and Lorien** – Aww, shucks.

**Guest** – GAAAAHHH THE WAIT WAS KILLING ME TOO! Lawl, so many punny opportunities :)

**Guest** – O-o I am most curious as well...

I wrote a lot of this chapter half asleep (amongst other things... **.** _ **. **), so cut me some slack... :3 And no, the word 'ire' was not a typo for 'fire.' It means anger pretty much. Also, I once again apologize for the long wait. I hated it as much as you guys.


	4. In Which Things Are Burned

Hello beautiful people! How are all of you, it's been so long!? Some nilly-willy silly filler today so its a bit short – I had this random thought and decided to go with it... THIS is why I should not be allowed near a computer at 2:00 am... And I swear this storyline is gonna go somewhere. Maybe. ? ? ? ? ? ? - ? ? ? ? ?

Songs that are currently awesome:

Stereo by IAMDYNAMITE

Fall Back by The Parlor Mob

Houdini by Foster The People

Shake Me Down by Cage The Elephant

* * *

I own nothing but Adriana and Tazia.

CHAPTER FOUR: IN WHICH THINGS ARE BURNED.

_Beep-beep-beep! Beep-beep-beep! Beep-beep-beep!_

My hand searched for the origin of the maddening sound and clicked off the alarm. Normally I would wake promptly at 8 am or earlier, but after the shenanigans of the night before, I decided that the upcoming days required me to have as much sleep as possible.

I huddled serenely in my bundle of sheets, trying to take in all the warmth of them. I started to drift back into the security of sleep, but my senses interrupted me. There was a warm scent in the air, one that was very familiar to me.

_Smoke._

In a flash I tore off my fabric cocoon and bounded down the stairs toward the origin of the smoldering smell. Frantically I dashed down the flights of stairs, almost falling every few steps in my haste. After managing to not plummet to my death, I made it to the living room. The fireplace was vacant, no furniture was aflame...

Then I heard a distressed mew that I was well acquainted with come from the ruby-red swinging door. It took only an instant for me to be inside the abnormally-large kitchen.

With the amount of smoke that I could smell and the amount of noise that Tazia was making, I expected there to be some kind of wild inferno inside the homey yellow room. There were no large flames, no sister of mine was burning alive, and there was actually no visible damage to anything at all.

Except to the pancakes.

Taz and the kitchen were both absolutely caked in flour. Even though she was wearing an apron, I was pretty sure that her entire ensemble was well stained with batter. It was splattered on the walls, smeared on her forehead, and stuck in her hair - little yellow highlights in a sea of green.

A whole egg carton was barren, left with only a few empty eggshells which Taz had yet to throw out. By my guess, the poor girl had gone through quite a few batches, and all that she had to show for it was a mountain of horridly burnt hotcakes.

I watched as the determined adolescent tried to pan-flip the obviously undercooked pancake. It half-flipped, flopping in half over itself and stuck that way, despite all of the distressed cook's efforts. She cried in melodramatic agony.

In her massacre, she was completely oblivious to my presence in the doorway. Not wanting to watch the struggle any longer, I rapped two knuckles on the doorframe. She perked up instantaneously, dropping her lost cause of a meal back onto the stovetop.

"Adriana!" Taz bounded towards me, catching me in a bone-crushing hug. As she released me, she went back and stooped over the pan. "I'm making pancakes." She proudly announced. I made my way over to the toppling stack of burnt matter. Skeptically, I picked up one of the blobs from the stack with two fingers. The bottom half slid off of itself in a gooey mess.

"...Uh-huh." I saw Taz reach for the abused bag of sugar to start what seemed to be another unfortunate batch.

"I wanted to surprise you with breakfast..." She frowned at the half-baked pancake in my grasp.

"Why don't you let me do the next batch... You just take care of all uh... these things." I gestured to the unidentifiable pile. There was no argument as she thrust the rubber spatula towards me.

"_Gladly_." While she put her own bowls and pans disorderly into the deep sink, I gathered my own. I couldn't understand why she had to get so many out – all you need is one or two bowls and a pan. Taz probably accumulated eight dishes, not to mention things like various whisks and spatulas.

Cooking had always been one of the best ways to help me relax, specifically with gas stoves. The only way that I can control my combustion is by keeping a close eye on the gauge and emotions, and that still only helped a minimal amount. A gas stove is so simple; All I have to do to rein in the small flame is turn the dial back down. How I longed for plainness like that. It's easy for a normal person to forget how lucky they are to be in control of themselves.

As I was mixing the dry ingredients together and beating the eggs, Taz popped up on my left and shoved a carton of frozen strawberries right in my face. I pushed the box slightly away from myself so I could see her beaming face.

"Can you put strawberries in them?" She loudly inquired. Her childish tone brought the beginnings of a grin to my face.

"Sure." Tazia made some sort of strange teenage noise, and I assumed it was an ecstatic one.

I continued to add the buttermilk, eggs and butter to the dry ingredients and added in the frozen strawberries.

"Hey Taz, did you buy any-" My query was interrupted by the slight squeak of the door swinging open.

Our guest stood in the doorway awkwardly, looking around the kitchen like he looked at our living room the night before.

"I believe I smelled smoke..." He started.

"Oh, Adriana already beat you to that." She frowned. "I was making pancakes."

"...Pancakes?" Loki repeated.

"Barely." I muttered. Taz took no offense and bounded over to him, taking him by the arm. She tugged at him lightly.

"Come on, sit down. Have some breakfast!" He confusedly let Tazia pull him down into the flaking green wooden chair at the table.

Taz continued to tend to him like an overprotective mother, but I paid him no heed. Actually, I was making quite the effort to not look or talk to him at all. Instead, I immersed myself back into my cooking.

I poured batter out of a medium sized ladle onto the buttered pan. The red and beige mixture sizzled on the black skillet and bubbles began to form at the edges. After about three minutes, the air pockets rose to the top of the hotcake, making it ready to flip. I shook the pan back and forth slightly to make sure it wasn't sticking and yanked the pan back and forward, sending the pancake into the air a bit before it laded back on the pan with a sputter.

My sister poked the man in the shoulder.

"She's so good at that, isn't she?" Loki blinked uninterested.

"Tazia, it's a flip, not rocket science."

"Not what?" He interposed. I turned away from him and focused back on making breakfast. Loki looked at Taz questioningly, but she just smiled, blissfully ignorant as ever.

About two minutes later the first pancake was done, warm, fluffy, and golden brown.

Taz tried to make idle chatter with the man – it was more like she just talked about her teenage nonsense while Loki nodded absentmindedly once an a while. He kept his eyes closed, pinching the bridge of his nose like I had done so many times when Tazia spoke.

I'll admit, it was nice to have Loki around, seeing as Taz made her new friend to be her main target. That thankfully took her focus off of me and my life for a change.

I let him suffer for about fifteen more minutes until I had made a good stack of pancakes, enough to overcrowd the medium sized serving platter. The plate was set on the table along with a dish of butter and a gravy boat, filled to the brim with maple syrup - there was really nothing else to put it in.

Once everything was set, I turned to leave the room rather hastily. Though before I could escape, Taz caught the corner of my shirt and tugged lightly, looking at me with muddled eyes.

"You're not staying?" I offered her a blank stare and paused.

"Not hungry." I mumbled. My sister looked at me as if _I_ was the nonsensical one here.

"You made it though." She protested.

"Only because you were going to burn the place down if I didn't." I mockingly smirked at her, receiving an equally sardonic simper.

She let go of my shirt and gave me an expectant look, tilting her head a bit towards the empty chair provokingly.

"_Fine._" I growled. Taz beamed and clapped her hands proudly at her small victory. I sat in the colorful old chair with obvious indifference.

There was no hesitation for Tazia to start eating, to the point that for a minute she didn't notice the two of us practically glaring in apathy.

After a moment of stuffing her face full, Taz blinked up at Loki and I.

"Wha, ya' not gonna eat?" She managed to mutter out, mouth full.

Me and Loki looked at each other for a split second before getting up and leaving the room in unison.

As I walked out towards the stairs, I could hear Taz:

"...More for me, then."

Gah, it feels good to write again! Sorry, no reviews to respond to thing time around :(


	5. In Which Ice Must Melt

SUPRISE!

So I can understand if you all hate me...

Hopefully this story will start to be churned out at a more normal pace. School has started up again for me, so homework may conflict with the timing now and then. Anyhoo, after that nice filler and a break, it's time for more storyline!

Songs?:

I Think I Smell A Rat by The White Stripes

Quesadilla by Walk the Moon

Collect Call by Metric

* * *

I own nothing but Adriana and Tazia.

* * *

After my sleep was so rudely interrupted by the smell of smoke, I made my way back up to my pentagonal room. The mere sight of the sheets made me drowsy. Though, as soon as I set foot inside my room, I noticed it was just a bit more stuffy than the rest of the creaky old house. Begrudgingly, I turned on the fake-gold adorned ceiling fan. Before finally swaddling myself back into my bed, I opened one of the windows, just about halfway.

It didn't get much cooler any faster, but the level of my gauge showed no reason to be worried.

The down cover made a light _puff_ as I wrapped myself back inside of my lovely cloak. A serene smile spread itself across my face when I finally felt comfortable again.

The sweet wafting scent of strawberries, the cool breeze from the window on my bare shoulder, the sound of the rustling trees... All of this lulled me into calming sleep.

* * *

My dream had no lights or images at first, just senses. I was sweating. No, sweating is inappropriate... It felt more as if I was a wax statue placed next to the Gates of Hell. I was melting – from my very core – and the feeling wasn't fading away. My fingers raked at my torso, face, thighs, grasping at what should have been liquid wax. Skin met skin – solid, smooth skin. No matter what my fingertips told me, I knew I was melting.

There were still no images. All I could see was a vast, empty blackness – a few shapes hinted at the stars. The blackness was void of any sound, so perhaps this was space?

But there was panting. The heated, breathy wheeze of someone gasping for oxygen. My own, I assumed. My lungs were about to burst, not needing air, but overflowing with it, but still needing more.

Energy. Did I need it? Was it building?

Both. I could feel wave after wave of indefatigable warmth built up near my heart, and pulsated out to every toe and fingertip. My hands clutched after my chest in desperation. The heat built, built, built... It wasn't a pulse anymore, it was a series of fiery tsunamis crashing over every inch of my body.

Fiery...

_Fiery..._

Of course.

A familiar friend, this was. A familiar _fiend_.

This was not a simple dream.

This was _fire_.

With a strong intake of breath, I shook the last remnants of my unconsciousness. I escaped the blackness of my eyelids, revealing the same dilapidated ceiling I had fallen asleep under, made blue by the moonlight. The gold-tipped wings of the fan had come to a damned stop. The one small window I had opened for circulation had slammed shut at some point in the night. Every single source of cool and fresh air I allowed myself failed...

Every movement felt like pieces were crumbling off – Ashes, cinders, embers. I pushed myself up by the palms in an attempt to prop my shoulders up, at least. As they pressed into the linen sheets, I could feel my hand crumble into lifeless shards of charcoal.

Yet there it was.

I held my left wrist close to my still-cloudy eyes, blinking away a swarm of non-existent ash. My eye caught the warm glow emanating from my hands – almost as if you had put a powerful flashlight under the skin. The gauge's needle rose to a highly dangerous 405.5 degrees. A measly 76.5 degrees away from...

This was bad. This was very, _very_ bad.

As I craned my neck to look at the bedside table clock, I could practically hear each tendon and sinew crackle.

Red, angry lines shouted '4:57'. I could not have been asleep for more than an hour or two.

Which meant Tazia was probably not asleep at all.

Breathlessly at first, I called out.

"T-Zs-ahh..." Barely a whisper. I cleared my lungs of their smog, logs collapsing on my chest. I took the smallest of inhalations my body would allow. With my eyes furrowed shut, I tried again.

"Tazia-Tazi..." I felt the last part of my body – the base of my neck – turn to glowing coal.

There was no more pain to come.

Only light.

"Tazia!" I struggled to control my breathing – _in, out, in, out_... Ragged, all the same.

It felt like ages before I heard the patter of bare, lithe feet. Their rhythm paused, the doorknob clicked open slowly.

"Aidie?" a small voice inquired. Taz peeked her head past the doorframe. I kept my eyes to the wall in front of me.

_In..._

"Aidie, wh– aw _shiiiiiiit_." In a fraction of a second, my little sister was nervously wailing her way down the staircase.

_Out..._

I let my eyes ease shut, my head tilted back so that it rested on the white wood panels of the chipped walls.

_In..._

Anything... Anything to take my mind off the searing heat. I listen close to the sounds below, rapidly becoming more frantic by the second.

_Out..._

Our guest... No, I can't be bothered with his name now – He was awake now, adding to Taz's clamor.

_In..._

Their voices were muted by the wooden flooring, but I could still make the deduction that Tazia was in hysterics.

_Out..._

After one final word from the little sprite, I could hear the sweet sound of rustling bags – Bags filled to the brim with ice.

_In..._

Two sets of feet came bounding up the steps, one more eager than the other. The feet stopped a few doors down the hall, as I could hear the chime-like clanking of ice cubes falling.

_Out..._

Finally, the four feet made their way back to my door. Our guest remained outside, but Taz all but ran to my side.

_In..._

"_Shit_." Tazia cursed, obviously louder than she thought. "Uh... We need to get her into that tub, STAT."

"..What?"

"STAT, pronto, immediately, _right now_." Fantastic.

_Out..._

"I'm still unclear as to what the problem is - " The man started.

"Look buddy, you don't need to know _jack shit_ for all I care, just help me get her into that _damn ice_!" I managed a smirk.

There's my girl.

_In..._

A few things happened next that are still unclear to me. The first was initiated by Tazia – through all the years of her having to care for me and my episodes, she always grabs my arm without checking the gauge on my wrist. Tonight was no exception.

"Aii-!" I couldn't help but snicker as she slinked back. "Uh, right, yeah..." The floorboards creaked as she leaned over to look at the now-glowing metal and glass disc. "Oooookay, um..." Her voice shook. "Well we could, ah... Dad always. -"

"Tazia?" I intervened. She looked at me with unnerved eyes. "Quickly, please." Taz flashed a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Yeah, sure, no problem...ah..." I tried to hide my visage of pain, but it was fading fast – _I_ was fading fast. Tazia's eyes glazed over in panic. Whenever this had happened back home, our father had donned a welding apron and the gloves to match them. He had simply carried me across the hall. Here though – I hadn't anticipated having an outburst this early on...

Tazia paced furiously – she didn't get very far with it, she kept herself in the same 3-foot area. She whimpered, she whined, she was almost in tears. I could hear her mutter something along the lines of "I don't know what to do" under her breath over and over...

Which is when odd even number 2 occurred. The man strode over to me – giving Taz a slight push to the right – and felt the top of my shoulder with his fingertips.

I cringed premature to his touch, expecting him to yelp in pain the way Taz did.

Then I recalled our first encounter – His hand had clutched my wrist, despite the fact that my hand was _glowing_ in self-defense.

There was no apparent pain for him – only on my part. His cool touch made my entire shoulder light up just a few degrees hotter. I hissed.

Unfazed, our guest slid one arm around my shoulders and the other under the sheet, to get at my knees. With one final lift, he picked me up as easily as a feather.

His odd attire didn't let much skin from his arms through, but I could feel the smallest of gaps of his skin pressing against my back. For a moment, the touch of his skin set my own flesh practically alight, but that subsided within seconds. I struggled as much as my body would let me – I shook my shoulders and tried to jerk my arms away, but he kept a tight grasp.

Before he was even half way down the hall, the sensation of his skin had changed from molten to frigid. And at this moment, it was the best thing I could feel in the world.

When we finally made it to the marble and porcelain bathroom, a mountain of ice was awaiting me – Taz went so far as to run cold water into the bath as well.

"J-just put her in, uh, feet first I think." Taz had piped up. Was she there the entire time...?

I could see him glance at Taz with a flicker of annoyance.

He slid his arm down my legs and grasped my shoulder as to let me plant my feet in the pool of ice. As soon as my feet were in though, our guest practically let me _fall _in. I landed with a small splash, accompanied by the jingle of the ice.

My body started to melt the ice instantly – within seconds, over half of the make-shift iceberg had disappeared.

_Out... _I released the heavy breath that I had been unknowingly holding. My eyelids drifted closed, and I lowered all but my head into the frigid waters.

Taz joined out guest leaning against the porcelain sink. She huffed out a large sigh. There were a few moments of silence before I realized that the two of them were waiting for me to react.

"Taz... Go get more ice? It's almost gone..." I waved my hand around in the water, countering nothing solid.

"Sure thing, Heat Miser." Before I could even start to glare at my younger sister, she had skipped out of the room.

Now this is where the most shocking thing of all happens.

The tall guest and I were left alone, silent. I tried to convince myself that there was nothing to say to the man, but my conscience differed.

"What was your name again?" I inquired. He was still. For a moment I was afraid that I had offended him.

"It is Loki." I managed to politely smile a bit, though I still did not face him.

"Loki... Thank you."

* * *

Oh...

My...

Goodness. I'm not even gonna talk about that gap of time. Nope. Not doing it.

Now did that second part sound kinda sexual? I just wanted to give you a clear, sensory idea of what bursting into flames might feel like... And dammit, it's pretty hot (ba-da, tiss...)!

I'm basing the randomness of her 'outbursts' on the tendencies of my friend's headaches – she can be set off by the smallest of circumstances.

Reviews!:

**I-have-an-original-pen-name**: (hides under a blanket) I DON'T EVEN KNOOOOWWW!

**AWESHUM**: My friend told me once that all writing is is just describing stuff. So yeah, danka.

**PartyVenom vVv**: Eee! You my friend have given me my longest review yet. I'm trying my best to get this stuff out faster, but like I've said before, this is more like a pre-actual-favored-plot, so writing this stuff is kinda hard, but I want to get it over with at the same time... blechk. Yeah, Loki wasn't very active before, but I'm gonna be getting into the swing of writing him soon enough. Also, is that a My Chem related name I see? Props if so, props if not.

[AGH, I MISSED TAZ SO MUCH, EEEEEEEEEEE.]


	6. In Which People are Warmed and Warned

Well hello again.

That last chapter was a bit experimental, so I would love your opinions on it(she says pleadingly)!

Blahbbity-blah, on with the show!

Songs you should be listening to right meow -

Fix You by Coldplay

We Come Running by Youngblood Hawke

Octopus by Bloc Party

Hm-hmm!

* * *

I own nothing but Adriana and Tazia.

* * *

I watched my toes wriggle a bit as they poked out from the edge of the down-filled comforter. The flicker from the fire – though across the room – gave them a familiar warm, orange glow, causing my mind to replay the events of the last hour.

Once I had melted down all of the ice we had on hand, I stayed in the water for a while. Our guest – _Loki_, as his name was – had left the room not long after I showed my gratitude. Tazia had made him go down to the living room to start a fire in the sitting room below. Though he complied, it was not without a pause.

I was actually starting to notice some habits of his. Whenever Tazia had asked him to do something, no matter how simple the task, he would hesitate. Loki's jaw dropped the slightest amount, putting the bottom row of his snow-white teeth slightly visible. Despite being visually vexed, he followed.

His expressions were becoming frighteningly familiar to my own – I hated him for it. Someone like _that_ wasn't supposed to be like _me_. Loki was stubborn, rude, and I couldn't shake this sense of dread that he carried. It wasn't his own dread that he conveyed, it was the threat of infliction.

Once he left, I exhaled again. Alone, eyes closed, I allowed myself to really feel the sensation of the icy water, focusing all my energy on the process of cooling down.

It occurred to me that this was truly the first time since I found Loki in my garden that I was able to be left alone with my thoughts. There was no way that I wasn't taking advantage of that.

I thought about all the work that could be done around the house. The walls and floors could benefit from some attention – the walls were beginning to chip, and the flooring was dangerously cracked and bent in some places. The old kitchen had left me wondering about the possibility of rewiring the whole of the electricity. Just turning on the food processor caused the lights to dim dangerously. The plumbing was fine, and the fridge and freezer were in fine condition.

All of this to consider, but it was the fireplace that concerned me the most. The fireplace was dirty from neglect, full of cobwebs and old soot. This upset me the most. There was never a television here when I was a kid – or rather, I never took to it. Grandmother Maria had one in her bedroom so that she could keep up with the news and she probably watched her fair share of soap operas. I never really liked the contraptions, they had this awfully robotic _blue_ glow to them. It gave me the creeps. I much preferred the fire, the hearth. I felt almost welcomed there.

There were the odd nights back in those years that Maria and I would watch movies – the old ones. When she learned of my discontent for the small screen, the old bat had invested in a restored projector, circa 1932. The machine required to be turned tediously by hand, but we never minded. We pushed back all of the furniture until we got a clear view on the wall before us, and cranked out films 20 minutes at a time.

What simple fun I had here...

I must have spent 45 minutes in that bath, maybe even twice that. I let myself soak and reflect until my flesh was reconstructed from the pile of charcoal I once thought it was. The cold had invaded every inch of me, to the point where I was close to _shivering_.

The gauge on my wrist read a dull 105 degrees – a bit below what I had desired, actually. Being a bit chilly wasn't _bad_, but I preferred to stay at about 140 Fahrenheit, 125 at the least.

With a melancholy sigh, I twisted the metal stopper out from the drain and watched the water swirl slowly downwards. Taz left out a few of Grandma's old towels, possibly the plushiest sheets of fabric known to mankind. All I had to do was let my fingertips brush the top of one, and my wet clothes were off in an instant, replaced by a soft terrycloth cocoon.

Twenty minutes in the towels, a good blow-dry, and a set of dry clothes later, I was only up to 120 – I could do better. I _should_ do better.

Out of the bathroom and into the hall, I stopped just before the stairs. I leaned forward slightly, trying to listen in on what stirred below.

Muffed rambling – There was always, that thanks to Tazia – followed exasperated sighs. What an odd little pattern this was becoming...

I backtracked to my room, wrenching the billowy comforter off of my queen-sized bed. I dragged it down the hall, then along the stairs like a toddler. Halfway down, I could hear the drabble a bit more clearly.

"...So, like, we should get you some normal clothes, y'know? I mean, I can just picture you in a nicely-tailored suit, oh my God, would you look se – Aidie!" My little sister's face lit up instantaneously. She leapt up from the chair opposite Loki's and ran towards me with arms open. Weakly, I smiled, cringing away from her impending embrace.

She squeezed the breath out of me.

"You're all better!" Taz rubbed her face into my neck like a toddler would her mother's leg. I sighed, prying her off of me one arm at a time.

"Just about, yes. Im a bit cold now, actually." I took my place on the chaise in between the two of them.

"That's great, I just started a fire anyways." Taz beamed at the small pile of ember and sparks that she had been able to muster up.

"That is a..." I smiled, forcing words back down my throat. "Thank you, Taz." She smiled, loping over to poke at the hearth with the conical iron rod. I sighed, picking the comforter off of the chaise and swathed myself in it.

I covered all but my head and toes, which I let warm up exposed to the heat of the 'fire'. I pitied the poor thing, really...

I drowned my mind in my thoughts before I realized that Tazia was talking again. It was her usual prattle, about clothes and movies and such.

"So Loki, you never told me – Where are you from?" It was at this, that I tuned in. I looked at him, a bit coldly now that I think about it.

"Yes," I chimed in, "Where?"

I wanted to hear something sensical come out of this man's mouth. New York, California, Vermont, France – Oh I could believe anything at this point, I just wanted to hear _something_ human... I don't know why I wanted it, but I did.

"I am of Asgard." My shoulders fell. Still insane.

"Never heard of it, is it in like, Wales or something?" I laughed under my breath at her simplicity.

"No Tazia, it's not." They both looked at me – Tazia with a look of disappointment that she found herself wrong, and Loki with that look that I couldn't tell was curiosity or hate. A bit of both, probably.

"Well where is it then, Canada? The Netherlands?"

"Give it up Taz." I warned. She waved me off and looked to Loki, signaling him to continue.

"...Asgard is not of this realm. It is-"

"Stop, just _please_, stop." Loki gave me that glare again. "If you're going to lie to us, at least tell us something _probable_."

"Aidie, he sounds pretty serious to me-"

"They always do!" I stood, feeling no chill left in my body. "The best lunatics _always_ sound honest." Loki rose from the chair.

"You brand me as dishonest?"

"Of course! You expect me to just trust someone who I find laying in _my_ garden in the middle of the night? And then _attacks_ me?"

"I never attacked you Adriana." I'll admit, I was a bit taken aback by hearing my name come from him.

"You could have fooled me." My arms crossed cheerlessly.

"Whoa, what?" Tazia decided to chime in.

"Leave." I ordered.

"Um..."

"I said _leave_, Tazia." I glared – directed towards my sister, but without taking my gaze off of our guest.

"Pfft, fine. It's not like anyone tells me anything _anyway_-"

"_Tazia_!" With a grunt and a few muttered curses, she left through the kitchen door.

The only sounds left in the parlor room were to dull crackling of a poorly built fire and the breath two vexed individuals.

"I do not take kindly to those who call me a liar." Loki apprised me.

"Oh, but you do it so well." I let myself get closer to him, my face just inches from his own. I had to tilt my head back a bit in order to let him see the full expression in my visage.

"Do not perceive me a gentile soul." Loki inched closer intimidatingly.

"So long as you give me the same courtesy." He smiled, almost as if I had told him some great quip.

"As I recall, I was the one who just carried a quite feeble girl into a bath of ice." I glowered at his words. He smirked at my lack of retort. Loki's eyes glanced down at my hand, taking in between his own cold palms. "Odd, isn't it, for one so feel so very thermal, hmm? Perhaps we all have something we're hiding." I jerked my hand out of his grasp, tempted to make it strike that loathsome face of his.

"You admit you are hiding something, though." He chortled, remaining silent. There was a pause. Neither one of us backed down from our stance, and I became increasingly aware of the narrow divide.

"Listen," I started, planting two fingers oh is broad chest, "You're infuriating-"

"Thank you."

"Shut up. You're infuriating," I continued, "But Tazia has taken to you. As much as I despise your being here, I can't change her mind. If I kick you out, she'll never forgive me. So I'm stuck with you." His wicked grin widened.

"What a shame, to be forced in the company of someone as _lovely_ as yourself." He taunted.

I laughed.

"Don't even try that – with me or _Taz_. If you are to stay here _unscathed_, you have to abide by what I say. This is _my_ house." His grin disappeared. Gained a shred of respect, have I?

"..." I took my hand off of him, relaxing my gaze.

"Do not fill her head with your _rubbish_. She's trusting. Too trusting for her own good. I don't want to hear her start to believe whatever lies you cook up. I could care less about where you're from, what you do, who you are, _what_ you are – but she will."

"And what, exactly, am I supposed to tell her?"

"I don't care. As long as it's remotely _human_. And if you can't do that, don't speak at all."

There was a small adjournment to our conversation. Loki took in a pestered breath, returning to his chair, sitting in a very uncalled for regal manner.

"You make all these demands," Loki rested his cheek in his hand, propped up by his elbow on the arm of the beige chair. "But how are you ever to reassure that I'll comply to them?"

There were many things I could have said – I could have said nothing at all.

I found myself striding over to where he was seated.

Then I leaned over him, close to his face.

"You seem quite durable..." I placed one hand on the back of the chair, near his head, and the other on his leg. I focused most of my energy to my hand, trying my best to make it dangerously hot. I wasn't sure if it was due to the adrenaline I could feel coursing in my veins or just freak chance, but it worked.

I tilted forward, letting my lips fall right next to his ear.

"...Who says you can't still burn?"

* * *

Did you know I'm utterly insane?

Reviews!:

**BlackImp** – Ggaaaaaaaaah thank you for so many nice things! I worked hard at the very beginning to make Adriana as non-mary-sue as I could. And vincible. You don't have to be sorry, freaking out is applauded – if not encouraged! Eeep!

**Guest** – Okay. 'Em is comin'.


	7. WHAT

OH MY GOD.

MY GOD. OH

GOD. OH MY

IT HAS BEEN OVER A MONTH.

SHIIIIIIIIT Y'ALL.

Okay bitches. You can expect something by Sunday.

Under and In:

-Caffie


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